


It's not a date?

by Tarredion



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2015 Era (Phandom), Bodyswap, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morning Wood, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, The Amazing Tour Is Not on Fire, Understanding, but also just staying together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarredion/pseuds/Tarredion
Summary: On one hand, it should all go flawlessly.When Phil goes on tour with his boyfriend of six years, Dan, he books them rooms with only one bed. He's not deterred by their quiet, and nonsexual, monogamous lovelife. They do things 'normal' couples do, just not as often or intimately.On the other... Dan has a longtime crush on Phil that he thinks is unrequited, despite their mutual romantic and domestic behavior.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 62
Collections: phandomficfests: escape from reality





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yes. yes they're really that stupid. but it's nothing a shared bed and a little bodyswap can't fix, right?  
> -  
> for fic flash fest: tropes  
> -  
> there'll be alcohol in chapter 3, but nothing beyond dnp getting tipsy

Eyes drooping and head lolling on his slumped shoulders, Dan tiresomely drags his suitcase behind Phil and Marianne, stepping into the dimly lit hotel lobby. He barely listens, though not by choice, as their manager checks them in.

He focuses on anything but the familiar tuft of black hair as he drags his feet down the hall, and his sluggish brain only catches up once they’ve stopped in front of a closed door. Phil slots a single keycard into the lock, and it doesn’t seem like he thinks anything abnormal is happening. He barely spares a glance Dan’s way.

“I didn’t get a card…” Dan says sheepishly, barely concealing a yawn. He almost doesn’t register the frown that falls upon Phil’s plump, pink lips. “Should I ask for one, or?” The last breath falls short, no more words rising in his throat.

Phil smiles, his eyes crinkling in a way that makes Dan just wants to run his thumbs across the corners, making him feel both helpless and too drunk on his own sleepiness to function. God, he really needs an aspirin or something, otherwise he won’t be able to deal with the bullshit his lovestruck mind comes up with.

“We’ll share, of course.” 

Of course they’re going to share. Phil’s his best friend, not a twat who’ll leave him tired and desperate and alone out in a shabby Glasgow hallway. Especially not just before the first stop of their tour.

The anxiety slips away as Phil pulls him through the door, gently, his fingers wrapping around his wrist. There’s soft and hushed laughter rolling across his lips, and tingles run up Dan’s arm from the touch of Phil’s glowing pale skin.

Get a grip, Dan, is all he can think as the door falls shut behind them.

⁂

Once Phil leaves the shared bathroom, Dan’s still gaping dumbfoundedly at the layout of the room. But his attention is not on the baby blue walls or the chipped paint. A small scoff escapes Phil’s mouth, and despite his mind helpfully supplying that he almost always is, Dan does realise he’s acting a bit ridiculous.

Of course there’s only one bed.

Of course. 

On the first day of their career and life changing tour, The day two awkward nerds, where one has a pathetic crush on the other, has booked a room, the hotel has only one bed. A single, queen size bed, even.

Too small and too intimate for two gangly humans, tall as giraffes, that’s for sure.

Dan knows he’s overreacting, and overthinking. Even if he’s not showing so outwardly. Phil’s clearly not uncomfortable in the slightest at the prospect, so why should he be? It’s not like they aren’t in each other’s space 24/7, save for the wall separating them at bedtime. It doesn’t even separate them all the time; neither Dan nor Phil can resist a good cuddle.

He goes through that every day, no matter the effect on his aching heart. A heart that longs for what he hasn’t had properly since a few chaste moments in 2009.

Sinking into the pale covers, pajama pants rumpled and crawling up his calf, exposing more skin than Dan can handle, Phil pushes his glasses down his nose. He’s using them to read, which helps him sleep, Dan knows. And he looks simply stunning wearing them.

The bubbling feeling rising up his throat is almost out of control by the time he’s able to push it down. To counteract it, he finally drops his duffle bag to the floor, and it’s with a sigh of relief. It had begun to strain his shoulder.

Phil raises his eyebrows at him, book limp in his grasp. “What’s up?” he finally, finally asks, and despite the softness of his questioning tone, Dan can only grimace.

“I’ll just.. go get ready!” 

And with some flailing, surely pathetic, hand gestures, he retreats into the bathroom. Way to make himself look like he trusts Phil, that’s for sure.. way to make himself look cool, too.

He rolls his eyes at his reflection, fringe sweaty and clumped where it falls across his forehead.

⁂

Dan tries his best to not fall off the bed as he scoots as far away from Phil’s freezing body as possible. The darkness of the room surrounds him, suffocating him, but not as much as Phil’s presence next to him.

His friend’s breath is smooth and even, his heaving chest moving the covers ever so slightly. The sound makes him seem almost ethereal, so far away yet so close, a calming beacon in the silence of the unfamiliar room, and the engulfing, scary dark. Despite it, the racing heart thundering beneath Dan’s ribs is screaming at him to run the other way.

Friend, Dan has to remind himself. Just a friend.

A friend and a great business partner, and that’s what’s gotten them here in the first place. There’s still some anxiety simmering beneath the surface, here in the hotel room, but since they’ve already sold out their UK tour, Dan has no doubts they’ll do great. They always do when they're together.

Dan tries to shut his eyes, but in fear of rolling back over into Phil’s arms, he can’t. He clams at the thought, breath rugged and short. If there’s one thing he can’t do, it’s risk revealing his most incriminating thoughts when he wakes spooned by Phil.

Sure, Phil was the one who wordlessly invited him to cuddle before he fell asleep, but they’ve both been so tired from their cross-country travel that Dan can’t trust his own body to keep itself in check. He’s got to make decisions like these, when he has nowhere else to retreat in the face of embarrassment.  _ And _ they’re surrounded by a whole crew of other people, which hosts a whole new set of problems for him. 

He lays there in silence, not retreating from his decision. His limbs tense as the urge to fling himself around washes through him, but not even the tiresome beating of his heart can make him regret keeping himself still. 

Still, Dan hears the soft and low grumblings rolling across Phil’s lips. He’ll sometimes talk in his sleep, but this is a different, unusual sound. He spares a small peek across the ocean of covers, and realises with that single glance that Phil isn’t dreaming.

He’s cold. 

He’s very, very cold with only the thin duvet to cover him, and it’s technically Dan’s fault.

His eyelids are squeezed tight over his eyes, and his features twist into a soundless, sleepy grimace. The goosebumps rising across his pale skin, which is paler than normal, cover each inch of him.

Dan feels guilt rise in his throat as he watches Phil shudder and whimper silently. Until a few minutes ago, he was the living heater cuddled up to him, giving warmth. And now, because he’s selfish and can’t push away his fears and feelings for even a second of sleep, he watches him silently writhe in  _ pain. _

_ The man you love is in pain because of you.  _

He tries to ignore the ugly thoughts roaming his brain, like Phil always recommends, but the beast in his chest only roars louder. It claws and tugs on his insides, ripping him apart. The message is clear and the lump in his throat grows because of it.

_ You’re selfish and ugly and rotten! That’s why he doesn’t love you anymore, you complete idiot. _

This isn’t how he figured their first night out was going to go.. but eventually, when he’s almost been brought to tears despite knowing it surely can’t be such a big deal, he shuffles and closes the space between them. He curls up in Phil’s arms, who’s cold hands instantly find traction on Dan’s shaking chest.

This time he closes his eyes properly, forcing his gaze away from Phil’s messy fringe and pout.

He’s overthinking, he knows. But what other ways can he soothe himself, when smothering the feelings themselves has never worked before.

⁂

A heavy body presses into his chest when Dan wakes, a thick and musky warmth filling his lungs. It seems familiar, in a way, but also like he doesn’t smell it often. He can’t quite put his finger on it.

He’s disoriented, and not much less tired than when he fell asleep, but there’s still somehow a featherlight feeling in his bones. Almost as if he’s slept for years.

Light filters in through the curtains, drowning the bed in brightness only Glasgow could provide - don’t fact check that claim - and for a moment he has to let his eyelids fall shut. 

When he opens them again, it’s to a familiar groan from the person in his arms, and a surging warmth gurgling in his chest. 

Dan feels the cold sweat seeping into his skin before his riling brain can come to a halt. If their position couldn’t be more embarrassing, his morning wood has to appear, digging into Phil’s side. They’re sandwiched together, and nothing Dan is able to do will bring his attention anywhere but there, seeing as Phil’s slowly waking up.

Speaking of.. something’s not quite right. The gut feeling appears, though more muddled than he remembers, and it feels like the whole world is slightly tilted. But only slightly.

And as his eyes adjust to the light, Dan gets more of a shock than he can process.

The body infront of him is not a pajama clad Phil, with his greasy black fringe falling across his squinting bright blue eyes, and his adorable face with their high cheekbones glistening bright. Instead, his own brown eyes stare back at him, wide, and he recoils with a number of swears, only to realise his voice is not his own. 

It’s Phil’s. And that is enough of a clue, speaking with Phil’s voice while his own face stares back at him, to tell him he’s not himself right now. 

“What the fuck?” he spits again, more fearful than angered. The Dan- or Phil, maybe, though he has yet to voice his thoughts so he might be ‘hosted’ by an intruder, shuts his eyes momentarily. “What the hell is going on?”

“I- I don't know either, Dan..” Phil whispers, because his way of speaking is so very  _ Phil _ , despite it being uttered with his own voice. 

He looks so vulnerable, and it’s with a guilty swallow that Dan realizes he just wants to curl him up. Wipe the uncertainty and horror from his wide eyes,and even if they really are his own, that’s his Phil staring from behind them, each breath a quiver of his normal demeanour.

A wave of fear crashes with his consciousness, and it’s with damp eyes that Dan recognizes that they have a show in almost twenty four hours. There’s absolutely no way he’ll be able to stand on a stage in Phil’s lanky body, telling lines that are not his. The anxiousness has already grown to impeccable amounts. 

Let alone could he live within it for the rest of his life. He loves him, sure, and he’s the most beautiful being to have walked the earth, but that’s the problem. To possess his form would be worse than eternal fiery torture. And he says so as someone who doesn’t even believe in hell.

With a defeated sigh, he extends his arms while trying desperately not to pay any mind to the problem in what’s really  _ Phil’s _ pants.

A blush visibly rising up his cheeks, when he catches up to the awkwardness stinging in the air, Phil crawls into his arms. And as he hugs him close, trying to shut the world out for a while, all Dan can think of is how weird it is to cradle himself in his -or another’s- arms. 

The very least it’s good for is distracting his mind, for he’s sure as hell not wanking Phil off, even if he’s in control of his body.

⁂

After a while in silence, the heat simmers down.

Their chests rise and fall against each other, bringing a certain level of calm and comfort. It feels just like whenever Dan has a nightmare at home, and he falls into the same covers as Phil, praying on his willingness and closeness.

Now, however, as the dawn dissipates, another concern comes up.

“We’re supposed to go see the venue, later..” Phil mumbles into his hair, and despite the involuntary tingles rising up his spine, a product of Phil’s own nature, he can’t help but think it’s pretty weird to feel his own lips on the top of his head, when it should be the other way around. “We need to shower..”

Dan really hadn’t thought of that. He can feel the blush creep up his cheeks, as a vivid image of Phil’s naked body pops into his mind. He can avoid wanking off in Phil’s form, sure, but showering is a social necessity. One he’s not prepared to go through with. 

Phil, in his body, untangles himself and pushes off the bed. A small smirk plays on his lips, and Dan can feel himself flushing even deeper, an itch creeping through his bones. 

“I can go first.” Phil announces, suddenly very calm and composed. His hands linger slightly on his arms as he slips onto the floor on the other side, but then he’s gone, flashing a cheeky smile as he rounds the corner.

To distract from the obvious, Dan shouts out. “Be careful and don’t trip!”

“I won’t damage you!” Phil shouts back, muffled from the other side of the door. “And anyways, I’m sure my clumsiness is only in connection to my body itself!”

Despite the fear growing stronger next to the tepidness in his chest, Dan feels a small smirk tug on his lips. 

“Spork.” he whispers in the open air, not caring if Phil hears or not. Then he curls up on himself, defeated once the emotion leaves his chest, and lets a couple of soundless tears fall. It’ll be a long, long day, and hopefully he won’t be stuck like this forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Phil] in square brackets means outsiders see it as Dan/Dan's body but it's Phil's consciousness performing the action, and vice versa w [Dan].

Phil feels his own nerves return as they step out of the hotel room, washing over him not much unlike when he woke (in the wrong body) that morning. 

He doesn’t have any problems with people knowing they shared a single bed in a single room, no, that’s not it. But what he is unsure about, is how to turn the gears in his head like Dan does. To make this believable. Phil might know his boyfriend better than he knows his own self, a product of their six year relationship, but he’s never been inside his mind and body. Not literally. As a being. And now he is in complete control of him.

Each movement, his tone of voice, how others will perceive him. All that is usually Dan, and still sounds and looks like him, is now in the unsteady, unprepared hands of Phil.

He fakes a smile, letting his hand drop from [Dan’s -but really his own- elbow] as they make their way down the hall. He can see Marianne and some of their crew huddled together in the lobby, immersed in small-talk, waiting for them, and he suddenly wishes the two of them back in bed. Despite his best efforts of controlling the universe with his mind, he gulps down his pride and nerves and takes the lead.

Because that’s what Dan would do. He’s pretty good at it, too, and Phil is grateful for it.

He bumps their shoulders together, a common gesture, and greets the group with small hand movements, trying his best to look like he’s not just imitating Dan. He knows he should exaggerate the waving of his hands, considering he doesn’t use them much himself when he talks, but it still feels a little awkward. Speaking at all is a beginning, after all.

Marianne politely butts in after a few minutes, telling them they need to have enough time to get a coffee before their tour of the city and the designated TATINOF venue. 

Knowing well that the lack of coffee doesn’t just get to his head, but also his own flailing limbs, dragging him down, [Phil] agrees. He doesn’t want Dan to experience the physical, very real sensation of being within and in control of a protesting Phil-body.

With a glance back at [Dan] he urges him to step forward, as they move towards the door. He follows, with an unsure smile, and no matter how weirded out he is by seeing himself move and smile outside of a mirror, he’s just glad Dan is here. By his side.

Reaching out as the others have their backs turned, he gives [Dan’s] hand a quick squeeze, hopefully a reassuring one (he’s unsure of how Dan’s strength is controlled from within him, and still unused to how different his senses are). With it, they’re stepping out into Glasgow, ready for satisfying their hunger.

Only one sentence plays in his head, happy as the sunshine streaming across the streets, something Dan had said as they tried to reassure each other that morning. Even if it didn’t quite make sense, was told in his own voice, and whispered into the wrong head of hair.

_ It’s a real letdown that I couldn’t see your scrunched up, glasses-less, Monty Mole face when I woke today _

⁂

They feign normalcy in front of the crew, nestling in a corner of the Starbucks, away from the others. Still they don’t try to make small talk, and honestly, Phil is glad. Talking as himself is fine, but trying to both uphold conversation with [Dan] and doing so while  _ being _ Dan isn’t easy in the slightest. 

That’s why he prefers the silence and privacy of their hotel room to the blunt openness of a crowded café, surrounded by people who’d _ notice _ , even if some of them don’t  _ know _ them.

Once they’ve finished their coffees, they follow Marianne and a temporary employee working at their Glasgow venue. They’re already deep in conversation, and so [Phil] takes that as an opportunity to fall behind, making sure [Dan] slows, too. 

He leans into his side, and [Dan] nudges back with a pointy elbow (who knew he had such vicious elbows), fear visible within his eyes as he slides Phil’s sunglasses down his nose. It hides not only the hint of emotion, but also the disaster of a job he’d made of putting in contacts. Phil had noted his own eyes were still a bit bloodshot.

After all, they don’t need words to communicate. The sweaty palm gently, yet quiveringly, grazing the back of his hand tells Phil all he needs to know. 

Going without physical contact would typically mean no fear, but right now his boyfriend feels afraid. Phil can feel a bit of his own uncertain anxiety bubbling beneath the the surface, and he can wholeheartedly agree. It’s so, so much worse when trapped in a foreign body.

Neck cracking as he stretches it out, [Phil] searches for Marianne and the companion, making sure they’re a considerable distance away, still, and not in any hurry to look for them.

Then he turns his gaze back onto himself, trying cautiously to read Dan’s familiar emotions on his own face. It’s weird. Pretty dang weird. And yet not worth a proper swear, in his own opinion. 

Dan definitely disagrees.

“Are we, like, trapped in UFBees now or something,” [Phil] asks on impulse, and [Dan] quirks an eyebrow at him. “Like, unidentified foreign bodies. Or are we unidentified foreign souls- maybe, um, consciousnesses, since you don’t believe in souls or-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” [Dan] throws out a loose wrist, nearly knocking the wind out of his stomach. Too fast, for his lanky arms. Phil stashes into the back of his brain how Dan’s strength is too much for someone in control of his body, a fact that the inappropriate side of his mind seems to find useful.

[Dan] pays no mind to his scrunched up face, and continues. “First of all, where the hell did that come from, second of all-”

“First of all, I wouldn’t say hell-”

“Second of all, that’s my phrase to speak now since I’m you, and third, yes we are UFCs now!”

Phil feels the pout coming before he sees [Dan’s] smile widen at the sight. “Betrayal…” is all he can force out, knowing full well that his boyfriend’s grumbly voice is too attractive for comfort. [Dan] just laughs at him, his own laughter strangely ringing in his ears.

Once it’s faded away, [Dan] whispers softly: “And you’ve got to add an endearing  _ buffoon _ to it, you know, you spork. Or else you’re not believably me.” His gaze is trained on the ground and voice impossibly honey sweet, and it makes an equal smile tug on [Phil’s] lips.

“Yeah..” He feels almost breathless, so hopelessly in love once more, at the words.

“Yeah..” echoes back, a smile in [Dan’s] voice, and then he looks up. Marianne has her gaze trained on them, about to fall behind, too.

⁂

This far into the roundtour, as the arena looms above them, Phil has begun to doubt their act. 

Noone has said anything, but the nagging voice in the back of his head tells him consistently that everything’s wrong and weird. And while it’s not wrong, that they’re really not inhabiting the correct forms, it is necessary to use them as masks and guidelines, no matter the outcome. After all, they didn’t choose to be in this situation, only a day before their show.

They’re not fakes for this. And their performance isn’t utterly horrible, either. It won’t affect tatinof, nor will anyone see them differently for being forced into this situation.

At least he hopes so.

They swarm inside, the whole lot of them, with him and [Dan] and Marianne somewhere in the forefront, though Martyn leads the way.

They traverse the halls, and are told all about the layout. Someone even tries to pass them a map of the building, but Phil didn’t register if anyone took it. He was too immersed, and distracted, by the weird looks one of their guides keeps on giving them. He’s unsure if it’s fear or just general anxiety bubbling in his veins, since he usually doesn’t get jealous, and the guy is looking at what is really his own body, but the feeling bothers him. It itches, even, crawling like bugs beneath his skin.

When they reach the soundroom, above the stage and audience, the very same guy falls to the back of the group. Phil feels the lump in his throat grow uncomfortably as his hand falls around his own wrist, pulling [Dan] to the side. 

Forcefully. Anger starts to boil in his gut.

He almost wants to protest. After all, whatever it is that he wants, he thinks he’s talking to him, not Dan. He should have the agency in this situation, despite how reality has shaped itself.

But Phil comes up short as the guide catches his eye, lips twitching. “Can I talk to you? Alone, preferably.” he says, eyes still trained on [Phil], but voice directed at [Dan].

[Dan] whips his head around, blue eyes flashing with alarm. 

It’s tempting, really, to just say no. But the guy seems too adamant to just straight up refuse. With a meek nod, ignoring the churn of his stomach, [Phil] lets them go. He gives [Dan] a reassuring nod, letting him know he can easily slip away if he’d like.

“If it’ll only be a minute.. We’re moving on, soon.”

[Phil] watches them intently as they step away, the broad man towering slightly over [Dan], height only matched by Dan’s actual stature. A million scenarios flash through his head, the dangers of it all, the possible outing..

He never needed to worry. It takes no more than thirty seconds until [Dan] is back by his side, bumping his own sharp elbow into his side.

“What did you tell him?” he whispers, unable to stop himself, and the raspy tones of Dan’s voice greets him. A tone unmistakably of jealousy.

Dan seems to recognise it, too, for he grimaces, but it’s a light and playful face that he makes. One Phil didn’t even know he could make. 

“The usual.” he muses beneath his breath, feigning interest in whatever flashing dials the guides are now showing Marianne and another employee up at the front of the pack. “Not interested, no thank you, yada yada..”

[Phil] hums softly, straightening his shoulders out. “Think he figured it out?” 

There’s no response for a few seconds, then [Dan] knocks their shoulders together, before pulling away again. His distance makes a ripple of cold run through Phil, goosebumps lingering where their arms touched.

“..maybe.”

They continue the tour, by each other's side, and yet [Dan] becomes more and more quiet as it goes on. By the time they’re out in the sunlight, forty agonizing minutes later, all Phil really wants to do is pull him into a hug. As himself. It really must be difficult to see your boyfriend get hit on, while acting as him, and being unable to say anything all the same. Even Phil felt his stomach turn and twist the whole time, even if he should be the one flattered, some would say.

At some point, walking down the streets back to the hotel, Marianne suggests they all go out to a bar that evening. Yet with other plans, and uneasy feelings running in the air, [Phil] declines for the both of them. 

Later, as they make their way back alone, [Dan] asks why. Despite knowing the guide would be there certainly changes things, Phil had already booked a restaurant for Glasgow, way before they arrived in the city.

“We have other plans.”

[Dan] raises an eyebrow at him, blinking. “We do?”

“Get ready to get dressed up.” The smile [Dan] sends him is worth it, even if it’s not accompanied by his glazed chocolate eyes.

⁂

Back at the hotel, Phil can finally assess their situation.

He leans against the fogged up mirror in the bathroom, one whitening finger lazily tracing patterns, going around and around on the blurry surface. The water condenses once more, running in small and warm droplets down the length of his finger. They fall once they reach the crook of his wrist, glistening and damp.

Something feels.. off. More off than normal, when they’re out in public. 

He traces another circle on the mirror, Dan’s untamed, unironed curls dripping into his eyes. 

It’s not the weird looks Marianne gives them, it’s not having to fake being Dan, it’s not even being flirted on while his own body is out of his control. Something else runs in the air, disrupting their ease and their flow.

He just can’t put his finger on it.

His boyfriend knocks, and it gives Phil no more time to ponder. He lets the three towels fall to the ground, before he takes a hold of Dan’s fine black pants, pulling them on ungracefully.

From outside the door, [Dan] reminds him to be careful, and finally, laughter bubbles from his lips. Even if uncertain and held back.

Phil’ll relax, for just one evening, if he can. If they wake up tomorrow still in different bodies, who know what a disaster it’ll be. And if not, they still have a show to run, almost as stressful as can be. Yet he’ll take the second option any day. Obviously.

But not because of their life changing tour, nor the uncomfortable sensation of being stuck in a different body, not even for their beloved fans.

Because...

...If he can’t ever see Dan’s hazel rings burn with desire and excitement again, eyes wide and blooming, he’d rather not see at all.

He loves him too much for that.

  
  



End file.
